[Psst… This is not PG-rated…]
Saturday. Early fall. In the 26th year of my life.
I had to sleep. And recover. After dancing to my friend’s brother’s friend’s band the night before and trying the new drinks our bartender pal insisted we taste, I needed to recuperate. But weariness aside, after one at-home cup of coffee, my roommate and I walked our usual three-block path to our coffeehouse.
“So tonight,” I said, “I’m going to stay in. Maybe some Chinese takeout on the couch and a sappy movie. I drank way too many different things last night. I still feel a little sick. How are you so… not sick?”
“Years of practice.” We laughed until Kristi’s phone interrupted. “Andy.”
“Oooh… your boyfriend,” I teased. He wasn’t really her boyfriend. They’d only been out a handful of times. She liked him, but according to her, he hadn’t kissed her or anything close. I guess I was a little mean teasing her with the boyfriend thing. Especially since he seemed to want to keep it at friendship.
Honestly, I wouldn’t have listened intentionally to their conversation, but Kristi didn’t walk away. And I was curious. For a guy who made no moves and showed little interest in her other than as one of the guys, he called her often. And this time, I could hear their entire conversation. Dinner. Out. Invite your roommate. She wants to stay in. Let’s all stay in – I’ll bring takeout. Later. Bye.
By evening, we’d straightened up the apartment, rearranged the furniture for optimal movie-viewing, and ensured an adequate supply of wine. After Kristi took a quick shower, I disappeared to do the same. By the time I turned the water off, I could hear voices. Crap. Andy was already out there and I didn’t have a robe.
I wrapped myself in a towel and listened for a moment. I wanted to sneak, undetected, to my room. When I heard sounds from the kitchen, I was in the clear. Grasping the towel around me, I stared at my bare feet while slowly pulling the door open. Apparently, Kristi was in the kitchen alone because one step was all it took for me to crash, full body slam, right into Andy.
“Oh God, I’m sorry,” I said, incredibly self-conscious about my nakedness. Andy was kind of hot. Okay, not kind of. He was fucking gorgeous. And he was staring intently at me. He made me nervous.
Without moving or letting me pass, he smiled, almost laughing. “Don’t be,” he said. He knew his presence affected me, and he seized the opportunity to tease me… staying in my path, not letting me go anywhere.
“Um… I should get dressed,” I mumbled.
He replied so softly that I questioned whether I heard his actual words. “Maybe you shouldn’t…”
I could feel my hands trembling, but I couldn’t help smiling. Tightening my grip on the towel, I shook my head at him. He was always a flirt, but I was naked. And he was making me feel like I needed another shower. A cold one. “Andy,” I whispered, “Kristi’s right in the kitchen…”
He completely ignored my words. “You smell good.”
“I’m dripping…” I regretted my choice of words as soon as I spoke them.
“Oh… that is not going to make me let you go…” He rested a very warm hand on my very naked shoulder.
And then I heard Kristi call out Andy’s name.
“Yeah?” He answered her but didn’t take his eyes off mine.
“Where are the chopsticks? Can you come here?”
“Coming…” He smiled again and slid his hand from my shoulder to my neck. His thumb ran over my cheek, lingering on my skin until he finally stepped back. In that instant, I melted inside. And he gave me a look. The look. Until he turned and walked away.
When I was dressed and my heart had finally stopped racing, I went to the kitchen. Dinner. Chopsticks. Movie. Deep breath.
In the midst of our deliberation over which movie to watch next, Kristi’s phone rang. She grabbed it and mumbled something about her sister while she walked out of the room. I had managed to avoid being alone with Andy since the naked towel incident, but no longer.
As soon as Kristi was out of sight, I could feel his eyes on me. I tried to stare at the television screen but credits were rolling. I couldn’t believably fake interest in the movie’s lighting design team. And Andy wasn’t looking away. I knew I had to look at him. I also knew that I was going to have completely inappropriate thoughts the moment I did. Damn him.
He wouldn’t let me ignore him. He gently kicked my foot. “Hey…”
Finally, I turned to him. “What?” I tried to sound calm and aloof. Total failure.
“You look nice… but I liked your other outfit better.”
“That wasn’t an outfit. That was a towel.”
I took a deep breath, hoping the right words would magically fill my brain. They didn’t. And I was relieved when Kristi walked back into the room.
“Kate had a little accident,” she said. “She’s not hurt but she’s freaking out. I should go get her.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” I asked.
“No…” She looked at me, then Andy. “You guys stay here… watch the other movie. I’ll go meet her… calm her down… take her home… I should be back in a couple of hours.”
I escaped to the kitchen immediately after Kristi left. I needed to be anywhere but on that couch with Andy. I poured more wine and threw it down my throat like a shot. Twice. I couldn’t hide until Kristi returned. I rested the glass near the sink and took a long, anxious breath. But I never made it to the living room.
The moment I stepped out of the kitchen, I nearly bumped into Andy for the second time that night.
“My fault,” he said, laying his hands on my shoulders.
My head wanted to speak but the rest of my body halted any hope of coherent words. Shallow, almost panting, breaths fell from me. Andy gave me the look. Again. And he smiled. He could feel the tension between us and I knew he loved it. And I loved it. Damn him.
“Are you going to let me by this time?” I asked.
He didn’t say anything, but he did respond. He inhaled deeply and took his hands from my shoulders. Before I could comprehend what was happening, he grabbed my face in his hands and kissed my anxious mouth. He pushed my body against the wall and tasted me. He was forceful in the best possible way. Not violent. Not scary. Just strong and passionate and sexy as hell. And I wanted him. And he knew it.
His hand on my neck, he held my head, not letting me take my mouth from his. But I didn’t want to take anything away from him. My hand touched his face, God, all rough and unshaven, and my fingers dove into his hair. He pushed his body against mine, running his fingers down my arm until he grabbed my other hand. And I had zero desire to stop him. I wanted more.
He lifted my hand over my head and squeezed it tightly with his against my now-favorite wall in the apartment. When his body crushed mine, I felt myself unconsciously moan into his kiss. He tasted like wine and desire [whatever that tastes like]. He slipped his hand down my neck and grabbed my shirt, stretching it lower, exposing my bra.
He gave up my mouth, but only to have my neck. His hungry, sucking kisses turned my brain to a completely useless pile of mush. He released the top of my shirt and snuck to the bottom. He grabbed my waist for an instant before slipping his hand under my shirt. His touch traveled slowly up over my skin. It was beautiful, delicious torture… until he couldn’t take it a second longer. And he knew I couldn’t either.
He grasped my hips and lifted me. The moment my feet left the floor, I wrapped my legs around his waist. While I teased him, kissing… sucking on his neck, he carried me to my bedroom. My feet hit the floor but my mouth didn’t leave his warm salty skin. His neck, his ear, his jaw, his cheek. And finally his mouth. Again. When he mumbled my name inside a gasp for breath, I stopped and met his eyes.
“Do you want to stop?”
Clothes flew everywhere until none remained. I pushed him down onto my bed and crawled on top of him. He pulled my mouth back to his and we devoured each other like starving creatures in the wild.
“Tell me… are you dripping… again?” His words were moans. Deep, delicious moans.
Oh God. “You… tell me… am I?”
He accepted my invitation without a moment of hesitation. And he moaned again when his fingers found the answer.
“Yes.” He sucked my lip between his.
My hand snuck into the drawer by the bed and grabbed a little something for him. I slipped it into his hand. “Put it on… now…”
“You do it.” He handed it back to me. I ripped it open and covered him as torturously slowly as I could bear. “Jesus… are you trying to kill me?”
“I might be.” Why was teasing him so satisfying?
He pushed me off him and turned us around. He pinned me to the bed and dropped his mouth to mine. I knew he was trying to return the torture. But I wouldn’t let him. I wrapped my legs around him and pulled his body into mine. If he wanted to resist… to make me wait… he failed. The most perfectly delicious, beautiful failure.
And I – without the strength of mind to grasp exactly how I got there – I was having the hottest, wildest sex of my life. With my roommate’s date.
[Names have been changed to protect the not-so innocent.]
~Writing 101: day 14